What Hurts the Most: An engrossing, heart-stopping thriller (7th Street Crew Book 1)

by Willow Rose

  “Is someone down there?” a voice asks.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  September 2015

  I don’t leave Chloe’s house completely empty-handed. Before I go, I find out everything there is in the report about the deceased, Jamilla Jenkins, and I get the name of the witness who claims she saw my brother stab her to death. I know it’s illegal, but I don’t care. I want to know who she is.

  I tell Chloe thank you and run up 7th Street towards my dad’s house. The sun has set and it is dark now. I can’t stop thinking about poor Snowflake, who has been alone in that room all day. I have completely forgotten about him and the fact that Salter isn’t there to walk him.

  I open the front door and run upstairs. Snowflake attacks me when I open the door to our room. He is wagging his tail and licking my ears. I giggle and sit on the floor until he stops whimpering.

  Then, I spot it.

  Right there on the middle of the white, thick, very expensive carpet is a big round yellow spot the size of a paperback. I sigh and look at Snowflake.

  “Now what do we do?” I ask him.

  He looks at me and wags his tail intently, then creeps up between my legs and hides his head. I can’t stop laughing.

  “Is that you, Mary?” I hear a voice in the hallway outside the room.

  It’s Laura! Think fast!

  I turn and grab my son’s T-shirt from the bed, then let it fall to the carpet. It lands in the second she enters and covers the spot. I smile. I know it must look phony, but she is used to that from me.

  “Hi,” she says, showing her fake teeth in just as fake of a smile. “I haven’t seen you all day. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come home to spend the night. But then I thought, well she can’t stay out all night because she has a dog to take care of,” she says with a light laugh. “Silly me. Where is Salter?”

  “He’s staying with his dad tonight. A little bonding time. They need it. He never sees his dad. You know how it is. ” It’s way more information than I usually give her about anything. It sounds suspicious, even to my own ears.

  “How nice,” she says, and looks at the T-shirt on the floor next to me. “Maybe you could use the time off from your motherly duties to clean up a little.” She sniffs the air and makes me think of a poodle I once knew. Even her hair looks like it. “It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”

  Can she smell the pee?

  I can tell that the T-shirt on the floor bothers her. She wants to pick it up herself, but holds herself back. She lets out a sigh.

  “I guess you should take the dog out first. It hasn’t been out since this morning. It probably needs to…take care of its business.”

  “Yes. Yes. Come on, Snowflake,” I say, and find his leash. Let me take you out for a little walk. We don’t want any accidents to happen, now do we?”

  I put the leash on, then walk towards Laura, who is still staring at the T-shirt on the floor. I know she wants me to pick it up, but I don’t.

  “Excuse me,” I say. “I kind of need you to move in order to get out.”

  “Yes. Of course,” she says and moves to the side. “I’ll just grab this…”

  Before I can stop her, she moves past me, reaches down, and picks up the T-shirt from the floor.

  Uh-oh.

  I close my eyes, and when I open them, she is staring at the big spot on her nice carpet.

  “That’s funny,” she says, her lips tightened. “I don’t recall having a spot on the carpet right there.” She looks to me for an answer, then down at the dog. She turns pale, as the realization sinks in. There isn’t anything I can say or do anymore. It’s over.

  Laura doesn’t speak another word. She holds a hand to her chest, then storms right past me. She disappears into another room, her own bedroom that she shares with my father, for most the part, when he is not sleeping in one of the other rooms. I hear her yell. Then my dad talks quietly.

  Seconds later, my dad comes out. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I need you to find somewhere else to stay while you’re here. We can’t have that dog here.”

  Even the way he says that dog, makes me want to scream.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  September 2015

  Sandra is looking through her book. She stops at a picture of her on the cover of Elle. It is one of her favorites if not the favorite. It is hard to determine. Every one of these pictures has their story to tell, and right now they are telling the story of Sandra’s life. In the beginning, it was mostly surfing brands that wanted to use her. Swimsuits, clothing, surfboards. She had posed with it all. Oh, my, how incredibly young she was back then.

  How I miss those days. How I miss looking that young.

  Sandra sighs deeply, then puts the book down. Now what? She has never wondered about the future before. Things simply just happened to her when she was younger. She never had the time to wonder what to do when it was all over. Is she getting closer to that point now?

  Of course she is. She gets older every day, and lately there has been less demand for her. But, can she live without it? She loves the work, loves the way she is pampered and looked at. It is hard work; it’s no walk in the park. A photo shoot is many hours spent getting it just right, so it’s not something that anyone can just do, you have to be cut out for it. But it has its benefits. It certainly does. Sandra loves the travelling. She loves going places she would never go otherwise. She loves how everything is taken care of when she arrives, the hotel is booked, the people are already there waiting just for her. She is the star. And she does love seeing the end results once the magazine or the commercial comes out. She likes to look at herself and how beautiful they can make her look. Sometimes, she hardly recognizes herself.

  Sandra looks at her face in the mirror. She places a hand on each side of her face and pulls the skin back to smoothen out the fine lines. Every day now, it seems they’re getting bigger and more plentiful. There is no way of reversing it or even stopping it from happening. Every day, she gets closer to being done in the business. And then what? Is she just going to hang out here in Cocoa Beach with Ryan? He has his business. He is gone all day. There really isn’t anything here for her.

  “You’ll get bored after a week,” she tells her own reflection.

  She could always go back to surfing full time. But the waves aren’t always good, and it would get boring too eventually.

  As she is looking at herself, thinking it is all over, her cell phone rings. Sandra picks it up.

  “I’ve got a great job for you, girl,” her agent form the agency in New York chirps from the other end.

  Yes! I am not done yet!

  “It’s not until two weeks from now, but it’s Vogue, so it’s worth the wait.”

  “Vogue?” she asks smiling from ear to ear.

  If Vogue wants me I am definitely not done yet.

  “Yes, baby. They want both the cover and three pages inside.”

  “The cover? You’re kidding me?” Sandra asks. It was ages since she last did one of the big magazines…and then the cover on top of it?

  “Nope. They love you. They asked for you specifically. I didn’t even have to pitch you to them. You’re getting hot up here. Once the word is out that you’re doing Vogue next month they’ll be calling from all over for the rest of the year. You’re back, baby.”

  “Really? I’m hot right now?”

  “Sure. Retro is in right now. They’re bringing in all the faces from the nineties these days. It’s hot.”

  Sandra hangs up, feeling like her life has been turned upside down. She can’t stop smiling. Just as she thought it was over, she gets a new life in the business. She had not expected that.

  Sandra sits down, staring at her phone. Florida Today is on the table underneath. She barely notices the small note on the front page when she puts the phone down on top of the paper. Her eyes pass it, hardly taking it in.

  MAN HOSPITALIZED AFTER DRINKING DRAIN CLEANER

  At first, her mind is on how stupid p
eople can be. How do you accidentally drink drain cleaner—could he not see the label—or see that the bottle doesn’t look like anything else you would drink from? But then, as though a fist suddenly bursts from the page and hits her in the face, she looks again. The picture, the man’s name, is it…? Well, yes, it is.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  September 2015

  I move in with Joey the next morning. I called him after my little chat with my father the night before and he told me he could take me in. Salter is still there and his eyes sparkle when he opens the door for me. I know he loves having all of us together again. Of course he does.

  “You can sleep in here,” Joey says, and shows me into the bedroom. “I put new sheets on and everything.”

  “B-but that’s your bedroom,” I say, slightly confused.

  “That’s alright,” he says. “I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs.”

  “I can’t throw you out of your own bed,” I say. “I can sleep on the floor in Salter’s room.”

  Joey smiles. “Just take it, okay?”

  I nod. “Okay. That is very nice of you.”

  “You can thank me later,” he says with a mischievous smile.

  I throw a pillow at him. Meanwhile, I hope he doesn’t think this means anything more than me needing a place to crash. I am beginning to long for Manhattan more and more. I don’t know why I stay. Well, yes I do. I stay for my brother, because if I don’t try and help him, no one else will and he’ll get himself killed in jail. But still. I can’t wait for this to be over.

  Snowflake is already loving the place and running around in the small yard like crazy, playing wildly with Salter and Bonnie and Clyde. Salter is in heaven. So is Snowflake, it seems. He and the other animals seem to take an immediately liking to one another.

  I let them play, then pull out my laptop and sit in Joey’s kitchen. He places a cup of coffee in front of me. I look up and smile. Our eyes meet.

  “You looked like you could use it,” he says with that boyish smile of his. Even though he has just woken up, he is still cruelly handsome. I wonder if he is seeing anyone since we split up. I know the girls must be all over him.

  “That is very kind of you. Thanks.”

  “What’s all this?” he asks.

  I draw in a deep breath. “My brother’s case. I’m trying to piece all of it together. The lawyer says it’s all about finding holes in the investigation now. If we can sow any doubts about the police doing their job properly, then we might have a chance. Something like that. I’m not a lawyer, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  Joey grabs a chair and sits on it the wrong way. He is such a cowboy, I think to myself.

  “Tell me what you’ve got,” he says. “Who was the girl?”

  “Her name was Jamilla Jenkins,” I say, and open the file on my desktop. I had written down everything the night before, while snorting and heavily cursing my dad.

  “She was a military girl, lived on base. She was thirty-three when she died. Her parents were both in the military as well, and she grew up on bases all over the world. I guess it was the world she knew, and therefore it was only natural for her to stay in it once she grew up. She served three times in Iraq and once in Afghanistan. She is a decorated war hero.”

  “Ouch, that makes it even harder on Blake.”

  “Tell me about it. The woman testifying against him, claiming she saw him kill Jenkins is also military. Who’s going to believe Blake’s word over hers?”

  “Him, a local artist who never held a real job in his life and who never served his country or risked his life for our freedom or them. That’s going to be difficult.”

  I nod and look at the screen with my notes. I try to picture the two girls standing at the bar in Squid Lips, listening to the band, maybe even dancing and drinking some beers. Witnesses in the bar stated in the file that they saw all of them. They saw the two girls and they saw my brother. They were all hanging out at the bar. Even Blake admits to having been there, sitting at the bar, but he doesn’t remember the girls. There were a lot of girls that night, he is quoted saying. He was drunk. He doesn’t remember. That isn’t new for my brother.

  I groan and lean back in my chair. I lift my cup to drink more coffee, but it is empty. I put it down a little too hard. I feel so frustrated.

  “Who am I kidding?” I ask. “I’m no investigator. There is no way I can figure out what really happened.”

  “Have you asked this one?” he says and points at the picture on the table.

  “Olivia Hartman?” I ask. “She wasn’t there that night. They were just screwing around.”

  “No, but she is also military. She must know these other two. Maybe Blake told her something. Maybe she knows something. It’s worth a try.”

  “Yeah, but the thing is, she lives on base as well, and there is no way I can get in there,” I say.

  Joey looks pensively at me. “I might know a guy.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  March 1979

  They keep the child at the hospital for two days. Penelope never leaves her side. When she needs water, she brings it to her, when she is sad, Penelope strokes her head gently and sings to her. She does everything a good mother is supposed to do. When she has a break, she walks to the payphone and calls Peter, who is still swamped by his work.

  On the morning of the second day, the doctor asks Penelope to step outside with him.

  Penelope feels anxious as she follows him out into the hallway, where nurses walk by with quick and urgent steps.

  “Any news, Doctor?” she asks.

  “We have now performed a variety of tests,” he says.

  She can tell from his face that he is tired.

  “And?”

  “We tested her blood sugar and blood calcium, we did a urine culture, a lumbar puncture, X-rays, and an intravenous pyleogram, but the tests revealed no abnormalities whatsoever. Neither does the cardiovascular exam that we performed. I did have Dr. Neuhart, our ear, nose and throat specialist, examine her, and he found evidence of a low-grade infection, and because of her previous ear infection, I will recommend an operation called a myringotomy, which entails removal of fluid from the ear drums.”

  “An ear infection?” Penelope asks. “But…but her heart? What about her heart? What about the vomiting, the staring spells, the seizures?”

  “It could all have been caused by the infection she is battling,” the doctor says.

  Penelope shakes her head. “No. No. Something is wrong with her heart. I had a specialist tell me so. He told me she needs surgery. Her physician told us her heart is sick…”

  The doctor places a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Her heart is fine,” he says. “We’ve run all these tests, and all she has is an ear infection. That’s it.”

  But Penelope is not convinced. She shakes her head again and again, desperately, on the verge of breaking into tears. Her pointer finger is waving in the air.

  “No. No. No. You promised me you’d get to the bottom of this. You promised me. It’s her heart. I just know it is. Why won’t anyone listen to me? I can’t believe I can never reach you people.”

  The doctor looks at her, then at his watch. “I have to go. I will schedule the myringotomy for later today. After the operation is done, I will discharge your child within forty-eight hours.”

  The doctor turns on his heels and leaves Penelope standing in the hallway. She watches him as he leaves. She doesn’t understand. Why won’t they listen? How is she supposed to take the child home now? She’ll only get sick again. She’ll have more seizures, and then they’ll have to start all over again. Why can’t they figure out what is wrong with her?

  Penelope walks back to her child, who is now smiling and seems much better. She strokes her hair gently, then leans over and kisses her. The child is visibly happy to see her mother. The nurse soon brings her breakfast.

  “Someone seems to be feeling better,” she says, as she places the tray in front of the
child.

  Penelope smiles and nods. “Yes, she is better. The doctor told us they will remove the fluids in her ears later today, and then we’ll be discharged.”

  “That is excellent news,” the nurse says, then leaves.

  Penelope waits for her footprints to disappear in the hallway, then reaches into her bag, and pulls out the jar of salt. She pours three handfuls into the child’s milk and uses the spoon to mix it. Then she smiles and hands the child the cup.

  “Now, finish up, baby girl. Just like last time. You have to drink it all.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  September 2015

  Of course Joey knows a guy who can help us get on the base. Joey knows everyone. And, somehow, they all always owe him a favor. It turns out this guy is actually in security and that he can help us get one day passes to the base, even though we can’t say we actually have business there.

  Admittedly, I am impressed.

  Joey drives the car; Salter sits in the back as we approach the gate. A guy in a uniform comes out. I break a sweat. I always do that when people in uniform approach me, especially the police. I can pass a police car in the street, not having done anything at all wrong, and I still find myself shaking, my heart racing, and my hands get clammy. I don’t know why. That’s just how I am. I hate authorities and I assume they always have it in for me as well. It’s not like we’re about to do anything illegal. We’re just going to talk to someone.

  “That’s Tim,” Joey says, and rolls down the window.

  “Hello,” he says, then hands us the passes through the window. He looks inside the car, like he is probably supposed to. He looks tough and serious. “We’re even now,” he says, addressed to Joey. “If anyone asks, you didn’t get these passes from me, alright?”